I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
by 10000PoisonedKisses
Summary: A short, dark look into the mind of Draco Malfoy. Rated for language and selfharm. .....Now and again, I wish I was someone else. Someone who wasn't fated to die from the very start......


I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

A/N: A dark look into the mind of Draco Malfoy. Takes place during book 6

Warnings: Language, self-harm

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters associated with it.

It may seem like I have it all together, like I'm the stone cold being my parents wanted me to be. I'm not.

Ever since I was a child my father and mother have carefully groomed me for my place in the new world, when the Dark Lord rose again. I've know my purpose my entire life but had never once thought about what it really meant. What it really meant to be a Malfoy.

I will never be able to choose my own path, make my own choices, marry who I please. There is even a very real chance that I won't live to be old enough to marry. If I fail the mission to which I was given, I will die. There's no pretty way to say it, despite what my aunt Bellatrix tells me.

"A martyr, willing to die for our lord. A hero to our people."

What a load of horse shit.

I don't want to be a sacrifice for one man's political ambitions. I hate being a pawn in a power struggle that started before I was even conceived. But what choice do I have? I'm the product of years of careful breeding and inborn hate. It's what I was made for. To hate and to kill.

I wonder if my parents thought of that when I was born. When my mother held me in her arms after my birth, did she know I would die before she did? When I sat next to my father as he read in his study before I started attending school, did he know he would give me to a man who cares for no one but himself? To do with as he pleased? I wonder.

Sometimes I laugh about it. I'm not even old enough to drink, but I'm old enough to die. Sometimes when I laugh about it, I start to cry. Fortunately, no one has ever seen me break down yet. No one alive, anyway. Moaning Myrtle is the only one who understands me and she's been dead since the Dark Lord was a student. Perhaps that's why she understands so well. She'd actually know the the very first of the Death Eaters. She'd been the first one to die.

Now, I was to be the next in a long, distinguished line of killers.

At first I was proud, happy to fulfill my role. It only occurred to me later, after I'd gotten my mark, that the Dark Lord had intended for me to die from the start. Why else would he assign a bloody 16 year old to kill one of the most powerful wizards in history? It was punishment for my father. Because he'd failed, his only child, I, would die. The Dark Lord is unforgiving, even to those who'd done nothing.

I want to be able to be a regular 16 year old sometimes. I want to be able to drink with my friends and fuck the girls that please me. I want to be able to laugh and joke and just...be.

I guess I've done a fairly good job of accepting my fate. My aunt Bella tells me that if I succeed, I'll be rewarded beyond my dreams. Even in her heart, I know she doesn't think I will. They, my mother, aunt, and Lord didn't even give me any ideas on how to go about this mission. They all know it's impossible.

Now and again, I wish I was someone else. Someone who wasn't fated to die from the very start. Not like I'd ever trade places with Potter though. He's got it worse than I have. At least if I die it will be quick. It's not like they could put me in Azkaban with no guards to keep me there so they'd have to kill me. Potter though, will die slowly. He's one of the most hated figures to our people and I can name more than a few who'd like to watch him bleed.

Sometimes it feels like I'm going insane, losing pieces of myself with every day. I don't know why, but sometimes I poison myself. Just a little at a time. It's not like I'm trying to find a way out of my duties, that's far too shameful to even consider. It's just that sometimes, it's nice to feel myself drifting away. To feel the pain of the poison snake through my body, nearly tearing it apart. Sometimes it just feels good to writhe in pain, my body emptying itself of sin, transferring all the darkness inside me into something that can just be easily flushed away and dissappear.

Maybe I am insane.

Maybe I'm the only sane one left.


End file.
